


Flexin'

by SolosOrca



Series: F1 AU [5]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F1 AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolosOrca/pseuds/SolosOrca
Summary: Rain during practice sets off an unusual challenge.





	Flexin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rockbrigade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockbrigade/gifts).



It shouldn’t have been a surprise that it was raining. It was after all July in Britain and, around 90 miles away, Wimbledon was taking place. Not that is was raining in London, Tezuka could see that on the tv screen at the side of the garage that no one was paying attention to. It was a glorious day for tennis and, if Tezuka hadn’t had more important things to do, he would be watching it on TV.

However, at Silverstone, straddling Northamptonshire and Buckinghamshire, it was raining. Hard. It wouldn’t have normally been an issue; however it was currently supposed to be first practice- the first time drivers could get out on the track and set up their cars for the weekend ahead. The forecast for both Saturday’s qualifying and Sunday’s race was bright sunshine, so going out in the wet was both pointless and dangerous.

“Why would I risk smashing my car up to practice driving in the rain?” Ryoma had explained bluntly when Tezuka had questioned it. “We’re not gonna learn anything.” He’d then shown Tezuka the forecast, the rain clearing off the central dot of the circuit in an hour, not to return.

All they had to do was wait it out. The tv footage showed spectators around the track, all huddled under umbrellas and under macs, still holding up their signs and flags. It made Tezuka glad he was inside the garage, even if it wasn’t warm it was dry and had Ryoma.

Not being able to get into the car after mentally preparing himself for it had made Ryoma moody and antsy and they stood together at the back of the garage in silence. Tezuka realised that Ryoma getting stuck in his own head was a bad sign, but didn’t know how to get him out of it.  It wasn’t in his nature to throw an arm around him and tease him back to normal, especially not with the television cameras all around, broadcasting all over the world.

In front of them the car was up on jacks, in pieces. The wheels were missing as was a majority of the purple bodywork, some of the team were hanging around it, fiddling with it, but with no data to set the car up with there was little they could do. Tezuka turned his eyes up to the world beyond the garage, to the rain hammering down on the pitlane. It seemed to have gotten worse. Carefully, he leant sideways so that his and Ryoma’s upper arms were touching, only a thin layer of shirt sleeve and fireproof underwear separating their skin. Ryoma glanced up at him and gave him a small smile.

“What are you moping about?” Kurobane asked, suddenly appearing next to them and punching Ryoma’s arm playfully.

“Nothing,” Ryoma grumbled, casting the rain a dark look as if that would cause it to instantly brighten up.

“Yeah yeah,” Kurobane said, trying to ruffle Ryoma’s hair, but being fought off. “If you pouted much more you’d become a frog.”

“Frogs don’t pout,” Ryoma snapped, “and I wasn’t pouting!”

“Look at that,” Kurobane said, ignoring Ryoma completely and motioning to Amane who was walking to the car, carrying  under one arm some part that Tezuka didn’t recognise but one that looked very heavy.

“I’m not going to ogle your husband,” Ryoma grumbled. “And I could carry that if I wanted to.”

“One handed?” Kurobane asked, grinning.

“Yeah,” Ryoma said, knowing he wasn’t going to be challenged to do that. Tezuka knew Ryoma had to be strong to control his car, but he doubted he could carry something that heavy with one hand.

Ryoma must of caught the look of disbelief on Tezuka’s face because he huffed and pushed himself up. “I bet my fans think I’m buffer than you two!”

“Davi!” Kurobane called to his husband, “our son has issued us a challenge!”

The terms of the challenge were hashed out. Ryoma would post a picture of the three of them flexing on his twitter account and put up a poll asking who was buffest. The winner won the prestige of being the buffest.

Tezuka was put in charge of taking the photo. Ryoma’s going to win, he though as the three men flexed in front of him. Compared to Kurobane and Amane, his arms looked like twigs, but he also had millions of followers, most of which would instantly vote for Ryoma. It wasn’t a fair competition at all.

“Here,” he said, passing the phone back to Ryoma. Kurobane and Amane instantly gathered around to see it.

“We’ll definitely win!” Kurobane proclaimed.

“It won’t be a photo finish,” Amane added and Kurobane smacked the back of his head.

“That was terrible!”

Ryoma ignored them, busy typing on his phone and setting up the competition. “Are you going to vote for me?” he asked as he hit the post button on the poll.

“I don’t have twitter,” Tezuka reminded him.

“Yeah, but you would if you did, right?”

“Of course.” As if Tezuka would say anything else. If the competition was for the hottest of the three, Tezuka would definitely vote for Ryoma, especially with his purple overalls hanging around his waist and fireproof top clinging to his body.

Naturally, the contest went viral. The television cameras had managed to record the photo being taken and, having ran out of things to talk about, the broadcasters leaped on it. Ryoma’s fans put up a valiant fight, but he was soundly beaten into second place by Amane as fans without a strong attachment to Ryoma piled in.

“I would have voted for you,” Tezuka assured him as they prepared to set off the the circuit the next day.

“You have to, you’re my boyfriend,” Ryoma whined. His phone buzzed and he glanced at it, “and now Kinchan’s whining at me that he wasn’t invited to join in. It’s not my fault the Dads like me more than him.”

Tezuka grabbed him and kissed his forehead, “win qualifying and then he’ll have something else to complain about.”

Ryoma smirked, “I will. And you don’t _win_ qualifying.”

 

 

 


End file.
